Home for Christmas (Willow Park #5) (4 page)

“I think I’d just like…quiet, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course, it’s okay.” It sounded like her voice was
starting to wobble, so she paused to get control of herself before she added,
“We can just go to sleep.”

“Thank you. Good night.”

Sophie turned out the last light in the room, and it was
completely dark. And completely silent.

Her husband was right beside her, but she felt completely
alone.

She wanted the television on. It had been a long time since
she’d gone to sleep without it. She wanted to talk to Mark about the last two years—hear
about what he’d faced, tell him about her life now. She wanted to kiss him
again, to laugh with him, even to cry with him.

She didn’t like the dark or the silence, and she was still
starving, so it was a long time before she went to sleep.

She tried to pray to God for help, for strength, for the
wisdom to know how to act, how to love Mark, how to be what he needed, how to
help him return to the man he’d been. But she’d been praying for Mark’s return
now forever, and God had given her that.

Asking for his gift to be better than it was felt like she
was throwing the answered prayer back in God’s face.

After sleeping alone for so long,
Sophie woke up in a panic as she realized there was someone else in her bed.

She felt an intense surge of fear—quickening her pulse and
her breath—before she remembered that the other person was Mark.

He was home. He was with her now. They were together again.

At least, they were supposed to be.

As her adrenalin surge faded, she felt shaky and weak. Maybe
it was the aftermath of her physical response to the fear, or maybe it was the
fact that she hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day. Either way, she was
suddenly cold and trembling, so she automatically moved nearer to Mark.

She’d gotten in the habit of doing that after they married.
He always rolled away from her as he slept, so she’d just gravitated toward
him. He was always toasty warm, and she was often cold.

It felt so nice—so familiar—to curl up beside him in the
cool hotel room. He was still asleep, and he made some wordless mutters under
his breath and slung an arm around her, the way he’d done all the time before
he’d left on his assignment.

She exhaled in pleasure. It felt like she had her husband
back, the way they both wanted. And maybe it would change again once he woke
up, but at least his sleeping self wanted to be close to her.

Then she felt guilty for feeling sorry for herself. She had
nothing to be disappointed about. She had Mark back. That was more than enough.

She still enjoyed his scent, the warmth of his body, until
he started to move against her. He made some more mutters—these clearly
indicating that he was waking up.

She wondered if she should roll away, give him some space,
but she hadn’t made up her mind when he opened his eyes.

They stared at each other across the few inches that
separated their faces.

“Morning,” he said hoarsely, his eyes softer, less guarded,
than she’d seen him since their reunion.

She smiled, so relieved by his tone and expression that she
felt something joyful starting to spill out of her. “Good morning.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“Just a few minutes. I was cold.” She said that last to
explain why she was all nestled up against him.

“You’re always cold.” He was almost—almost—smiling.

“That’s because you keep the temperature so low any normal
person would be freezing.” They’d had variations on this conversation many
times before, and the familiarity was immensely comforting.

He chuckled, very softly.

The joy kept rising in her heart at his soft mood, but she didn’t
want to call attention to it or make him self-conscious, so she said with
playful force, “So it’s either raise the temperature in the room or put up with
me huddling against you. Those are your choices.”

“Those are my choices, huh?”

“Yes.” She nodded vigorously to emphasize her answer.

He laughed and tightened his arm around her. “All right.
I’ll live with the huddling.”

Her arms were bent up and trapped between their chests, but
she managed to squeeze one hand out so she could touch his messy beard, smoothing
out a tangle and a few kinks. His eyes still looked too large for his face, and
his cheekbones were too prominent.

She desperately wanted to know what happened to him while he
was captured, but she didn’t want to pressure him to open up. Everyone had told
her not to push him too hard. Instead, she asked gently, “Are you going to keep
this?” She stroked the coarse hair on his face.

“I don’t know. Do you not like it?”

She’d rather see his whole face, see him the way he used to
be, but she certainly wasn’t going to tell him she was disappointed in anything
about him. “It’s fine. It’s just different.”

“I know.” There was a hint of poignancy in his tone, his
eyes.

Afraid he was going to pull away, when she’d just barely
gotten him back, she gave him a teasing smile. “But it must help to hold in
your body heat, so I’m not going to complain.”

He chuckled again and raised one of his hands to cup her
cheek, the way she was cupping his. His expression changed again. “You never do
complain.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t even true.

Before she could think of a response, he added, his voice
slightly thick, “You’re so beautiful.”

He was gazing at her now, as if he’d never seen her before.

She swallowed hard. “I look the same as always.”

“Do you?” He used his thumb to caress her skin, and then
slid it over to rub gently against her lips. “You are so incredibly beautiful.”

Her cheeks warmed with pleasure at his words, at the almost
awed look in his eyes, and in response to his touch. He still didn’t feel quite
like the Mark she remembered, but she loved him anyway, wanted him anyway.

She couldn’t stand even the slight distance between them.
She stretched up toward his lips, moving her hand from his beard to his hair.

He groaned low in his throat as her mouth reached his, and
his arm tightened dramatically around her. It was like something had snapped
inside him. He almost immediately took control of the kiss, turning her over
onto her back and moving on top of her.

Her heart and body thrilled at his response, at how much he
seemed to need her. His tongue was in her mouth now, stroking and sliding
against hers. His muscles had tightened up, and he kept making soft, throaty
sounds.

She clung to him desperately, finally feeling like he was
hers again, that she was needed, that she was loved. “Mark,” she gasped, his
mouth breaking briefly from hers. “Mark.”

He grunted against her mouth as he claimed her lips again.
She could feel him growing hard, pressed up against her belly, and she rubbed
herself against him instinctively.

His hands were starting to move now, stroking her body
eagerly, almost clumsily. His urgency just intensified her own. She whimpered
as she dug her fingernails into his back, through his shirt.

He was already pushing down her pajama pants and panties,
and she was trying to help him by toeing her pants the rest of the way down her
legs. Arousal ached between her thighs, and her heart was aching even more
deeply, emotion lodged hard in her throat.

She was so relieved that he still wanted her, that he still
wanted to be close to her. She had been starting to think that everything had
changed between them.

She reached down to take his erection in both of her hands,
and she caressed him lightly, flushing with even more pleasure when he moaned softly
in response. “Sophie, baby,” he choked, moving her hands and raising them up
above her head.

She arched up shamelessly against his hold on her, her whole
body pulsing now with need. “Please, Mark,” she gasped. “I need you so much.”

His face twisted strangely as he stared down at her. Then he
released one of her hands so he could move his shaft into position between her
thighs.

She cried out as he entered her, still clinging to the one
hand he held. She was tight from going so long without sex, and both of them
were groaning as he eased himself in. She bent up her legs around his hips and
tried to breathe deeply.

Before she could fully adjust, he was kissing her again and
starting to thrust. He’d always been eager and passionate, but he seemed less
in control than he used to be. Maybe just because it had been so long since
they’d been together. He was moving against her urgently, his body tight and
hot and somehow primal.

She clawed at his back, over the shirt he still wore, and
tried to move with him. She was breathless and emotional and almost dizzy from
so many feelings all at once.

He was going to come before she did. She could feel it in
his body, and she hadn’t had nearly enough stimulation yet to reach orgasm. She
didn’t care. Her heart needed this far more than her body did. She squeezed him
with her arms, her thighs, her inner muscles. She never wanted to let him go.

“I love you, Mark,” she panted, pulling her lips away enough
to speak. “I love you so much.”

He made a weird little sound and kissed her hard again.

She was whimpering into his mouth when she felt him fall out
of rhythm, making a loud, uncontrolled sound and shaking helplessly as he came.

She stroked his back as his body relaxed over hers. He was
hotter than ever, panting against her neck. He didn’t speak for a long time,
but she felt better than she had in several days, hopeful that this had been a
step in the right direction.

“Are you okay?” he asked at last, raising his head.

She blinked. “Of course. What do you mean?”

“Was I…was I too rough?” His voice was thick, slightly
cracked.

“No. No. Of course, you weren’t. It was great.” She squeezed
him in a hug. “I loved it. I love you. I missed you so much.”

He stared down at her for a long time, his eyes conflicted
in a way she didn’t understand. Then he leaned down to press a very soft kiss
against her lips. His beard was slightly scratchy against her skin.  “I missed
you too,” he murmured.

She wished he’d said that he loved her too, but she wasn’t
going to be silly or selfish. She was going to give him anything he needed and
not expect too much from him too quickly.

He’d told her he was going to try to be his old self again,
and she would trust him at his word and be as patient as he needed.

She wasn’t the one who had been through hell. She had
nothing to complain about.

Mark rolled off her with a groan, but he pulled her against
his side, so she nestled up against him, relieved that he hadn’t pulled away as
soon as the sex was over. He’d never done that in the past, but things were
different now, and she wasn’t quite sure what he might do.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, until she started to
wonder what he was thinking. His expression, his eyes, were very far away, the
way they’d often been since he got back.

“Do you…” she began, clearing her throat when she started to
question whether she should say anything. But, since she started, she might as
well go on. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

He tilted his head to look down at her. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Anything. We haven’t talked
much. I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about anything. I don’t want
to push you or anything, but sometimes it…it helps.”

She felt stupid, all of a sudden. Stupid for saying
something so obvious and simplistic.

When he didn’t answer, she babbled on. “You don’t have to.
I’m not pushing or anything.”

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For not pushing.”

Well, okay. That seemed clear enough. He didn’t want to
talk.

“I guess you’re getting enough pushing from other people.”

He sighed. “Yeah. You won’t believe the number of doctors
they want me to see.”

“I guess they’re worried about you.”

“I guess. But I was just held in a prison. I
wasn’t…traumatized the way a lot of other people have been. It’s not like I’m
going to need in-depth PTSD treatment or something. It wasn’t any fun. But it
wasn’t…traumatic.”

Sophie couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath, so
immensely relieved by what he’d admitted so gruffly and indirectly. She’d had
so many nightmares about him being tortured and assaulted. At least he hadn’t
had to go through that. “But it was still hard. They’re just trying to help you
adjust,” she said gently.

“I know.”

“Do you not want to…do you not want to go through the
transition stuff they’re trying to help you with?” She wasn’t sure whether she
should even ask that, but there were some things she needed to know—whether or
not he wanted to talk about them.

“Not really. I just want to move on. Be myself again.”

She looked up to meet his eyes. “But that’s not going to be
really easy, is it?”

“No.” He sighed. “It’s not.”

“So maybe it doesn’t hurt to go through some support and
counseling, like they want. Maybe it will help you transition.”

“Maybe. They’ve got stuff lined up for you too, don’t they?”

“Yeah. Not as much, but some counseling and such.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go through that.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but he didn’t seem
inclined to sustain the topic.

Mark had always been very communicative. He’d always loved
to talk, to ask questions and share his opinions. This kind of halting reserve
wasn’t like him at all. But she supposed it was natural, normal, after what
he’d been through.

Once he was through with the transition, maybe he’d be more
like himself again.

She leaned over to press a kiss against his shoulder, over
his shirt.

He exhaled deeply again. “I just want to be normal again.”

“We’ll get there,” she said, understanding now that he was
feeling the same way she was. “Let’s just give it some time.”

***

That evening, as they were walking
through the lobby of the hotel, on their way back up to their room, a man
stepped out in front of them, coming from the column he’d been standing by.

Sophie stopped in surprise at the unexpected presence, but
then she recognized the man.

It was John. Mark’s brother.

Mark had stopped in surprise too, jerking more dramatically
than Sophie had, as if being startled had affected him more. But, as soon as he
recognized his brother, he made a sound in his throat and stepped forward to
give his brother a hug.

Sophie had the strangest combination of reactions. She was
glad to see John. She’d always liked him, and the brothers had always been
close. She was relieved that someone else was here who loved Mark, who knew
him, who could be some sort of support.

But she was also jealous. Intensely jealous. That Mark had
so willingly hugged his brother—without hesitation—when it had taken him so
long to touch Sophie in any way.